


ivory tiles

by Scribulus



Series: The Real Tony Stark [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribulus/pseuds/Scribulus
Summary: Tony was best known for his engineering genius, things of math and science, technology that revolutionized the world.Not many people knew he had another passion, one the Maria Stark had kindled into him from birth. Music. Specifically, the piano.Tony never really thought about it, never thought about sharing it. He felt it private, his own little secret that only his mother and himself knew.That is, until the Avengers found out.





	ivory tiles

It was Thor that learned of it first.

 

As astute as Thor could be, as kind, gentle, and wise, he generally wasn't the first to find out about things. He was usually the last, learning of things sometimes weeks, months later alter the others had.

 

So when he realized that he was the first to learn of something, well. That was a feat unto itself.

 

He had been in his room - a somewhat unusual occurrence, as Thor wasn't in his room very often, much preferring to stay outside and interact and play with his 'shield-brothers' and 'shield-sister' (well, as much as anybody could interact with Natasha, somethings just stayed with someone for a long time, and for Natasha, abhorrence of human emotions was one of them), when he had first heard it.

 

At first, he thought it a dream, a hallucination brought on by the sadness and wistfulness he felt for Loki and his family, how they had broken apart. After all, he had just been thinking of how Loki would play the piano and everybody would stop and listen to the delicate tunes drifting down the halls.

 

But when the noise still didn't go away after several minutes, Thor knew it to be no dream of his brought on by wishful thinking of better days.

 

Walking towards the source, his footsteps gentle against the floor, he listened intently. Yes, there it was, a piano playing a sweet, gentle tune, one that spoke of longing and acceptance.

 

As he rounded the corner, he sucked in a sharp breath.

 

There was the source of the beautiful music - and he must admit, it hadn't been what he had expecting.

 

It was a beautiful room, as all rooms in the tower were, with wall-length windows, some frosted, some stained glass, some clear, all letting in sunlight that drifted across the room. The buttery, golden sunlight all seemed to fall upon one particular spot.

 

A truly exquisite grand piano in the middle of the room, upon a raised floor.

 

Now, Thor never admitted to knowing much about musical instruments, except for the things Loki had imparted upon him and he had remembered, but even he was able to appreciate the beauty that was the piano.

 

It was obviously treasured, with gleaming inky black surface as far as he could see, highlighted with delicate gold, in what seemed to be real gold leaf, shining ivory keys.

 

And sitting upon a stool, playing the piano, was Tony Stark. He played it in a way that seemed familiar, like he had grown up playing it, coaxing mesmerizing tunes out of the instrument, sad yet sweet, happy yet sorrowful, like sunshine and rain.

 

Thor had no idea for how long he had stayed there, just listening to him spin far-reaching tunes, silly and passionate, tunes that made Thor want to laugh and weep.

 

For so long, he had felt desolate, longing for the feeling of home that music, formerly only Loki's music, could bring. But it seemed he'd found it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce was the second person to hear the music. Just like Thor, it was purely accidental.

 

He had been searching for something to calm and control the ever-raging vale of anger that simmered inside of him. Nothing he usually did was working, and Bruce was admittedly beginning to feel desperate.

 

Yoga was a bust. Meditating he had given up as a lost cause after 2 minutes. Herbal remedies? Yeah, no. He wasn't even going to go there. Bruce was just going to say that it was a complete failure and to leave it at that.

 

Thanks to Tony, he no longer thought of himself as a monster, but he still had a long way to go before feeling fully comfortable. And this was pushing his limits.

 

That was when, just as he was thinking that he might have to go to his Hulk-Room, he heard the delicate strains of music.

 

Bruce had never really dabbled in music like he did with other subjects, but as a little boy, he'd always had a fascination for it, I spark of flame in his dark, dreary world.

 

So, he followed the sweet, haunting tune that brought back memories of the better times of his childhood,mcoaxing and calling him, relaxing him.

 

The simmering anger in him had quieted down, and so Bruce followed, the Pied Piper calling and he was a willing slave.

 

He entered the same room,many seeing Thor, opened his mouth to ask a question before being shushed. Falling silent, he took in his surroundings, before his eyes narrowed in on the figure playing the piano.

 

The music spoke of acceptance, softening Bruce, relaxing the hard edges and smoothing away the tightness and tenseness that had clung at him like a limpet.

 

He followed Thor's example and sat down. He wasn't going anywhere, not for as long as this music was playing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The third person was in fact the good Captain.

 

Once more, he was wandering around, lost in thought. He appreciated all that Tony did for him, he really did, but sometimes he hated it all.

 

He felt so wrong in his own skin, and itched to crawl out of it.

 

Days like this, he was restless, hatred and self-loathing and exhaustion gnawing at him like a rabid dog to a bone. Everything around him just felt bad, the technology alien and the luxury sickening. Lost in his memories of a modest, tiny house, with quilted beds and crackling fireplaces and a boy with an easy smile named Bucky- this didn't feel like home.

 

He longed for a woman with a soft, sweet smile and warmth and reassurances, of stories told, huddling underneath thick, wool quilts to save money. Of soft, sweet songs, clinked out by an old, broken down piano desperately in need of tuning.

 

Tony did his best but- sometimes, this wasn't home.

 

Then he heard it. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he had sunk to deep in his memories, and the ghosts of the past had come to haunt him, in moments when the world was dark, illuminated only by the moon, or in plain sunlight when memories would come to swamp him, turning him dizzy with longing.

 

But no. The music was real, and yes- it was playing that same old song from his childhood, the one he was dreaming of, an Irish ditty sweet and low, crooning and soft, lilting in a way nobody but those who truly knew it would be able to accomplish.

 

As if in an odd sort of dream, he floated through the halls, heading to the sound of the music, a sudden urgent desperation sparking a flame of _wanting_ deep in his breast.

 

He was met the sight of two already there, just as captured by the music as he was. Burning curiosity stirred deep within him, but the music soothed it, and he sat down. He could always ask his questions later.

 

Right now?

 

He was content to simply listen.

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha and Clint both found about it together, the last of the Avengers to discover it.

 

It all started with Natasha, when she walked out of the gym along with Clint, both of them having finished sparring. Natasha had noticed the quiet of the tower, and had been extra alert.

 

It was that alertness that clued her into the secret.

 

When she heart the opening swells of the melody, she nearly fell in shock.

 

That melody- it had triggered something. An old, faded childhood memory, one buried so deep in the recesses of her own mind that she hadn't a clue it was there, until it resurfaced, coaxed out of the cobwebby corner it was pushed into.

 

She recalled another woman- a woman with hair as red as hers, and a man with eyes the exact same shade of green, cradled in their collective arms, as they waltzed across a room.

 

To the exact same tune that was playing right now.

 

Natasha hadn't even noticed that she was crying, tears streaming down her face in a silent river, until Clint was grabbing at her, eyes burning with worry.

 

She wasn't able to say anything, shaking her head.

 

Clint had looked supremely confused as the tune faded away, until he heard the next song that was playing and he himself froze in shock.

 

Clint felt like he was suffocating, but free at the same time, when he heard the same enthralling song that wove into his dreams late at night, when he could barely distinguish reality and called, pleading to the ghosts of the past.

 

Sharp and high, with piping little notes and silky trills, the song broke open the cage that Clint had locked in his mind. 

 

They both moved at the at the same time, chasing long-forgotten dreams and wandering memories, until they reached the room.

 

They picked up on other details in the room, but they focused on the main one. A man with rich, Italian hair and skin, bent over a beautiful piano, playing his heart and soul, eyes half lidded, hiding what they knew to be whiskey brown eyes that seemed to hold the secrets to the universe that he was weaving right now.

 

Settling down with the other Avengers, they shared a glance, then as one, turned to the man playing in front of them. There would be time for queries later, but for now?

 

Now, they would be content.

 

They would listen to the melodies of the ivory tiles.


End file.
